What's A Girl Gotta do?
by BonsaiBabe
Summary: Cass wants to see the famous Gannon Cannon. What better way to worm her way in than a drunken threesome? Cass/Boone/Gannon. De-anoning from FKM


After enjoying a particularly satisfying shower (the hot water held out for _six whole minutes! Wow!)_, Arcade made his way back to the bunk rooms. After making a quick check and noting the room to be empty, Arcade closed the door—the previously agreed on sign for 'I'm in this room, probably getting nekked, so for the love of god give me five minutes to myself'—and allowed his towel to drop to the ground. Stretching his lanky arms languidly above his head, Arcade took a moment to enjoy feeling clean and free. He ran his long fingers through his wet hair, noting that he was still soaked, and elected to shake his head like a dog rather than retrieve his towel from the dusty floor of the _Lucky 38._ Water droplets fell in cool splatters along his freckled shoulders, and annoyingly enough, upon his glasses lenses. With a sigh of frustration, Arcade snagged his glasses off of his face and padded over to his duffle, feeling an almost compulsive need to polish his glasses before they streaked.

Picking up a clean shirt at random, Arcade straightened up and squinted as he cleaned his glasses. He was so involved in the process, that he didn't notice the door opening until he caught traces of blurry movement out of the corner of his eye. "Naked in here," Arcade shouted. Still, his first instinct was to throw his glasses haphazardly onto his face rather than cover up; partially because Arcade was a secret exhibitionalist and it may be Boone coming in the door, and partially because he was more inquisitive than embarrassed about who was breaking the Sacred Trust of the Shut Door.

"Cass," Arcade said with a raised eyebrow, starting to feel the barest touch of a flush creeping up his cheeks. Quickly, he covered his manhood with the balled up shirt in his hand. "Do you mind," he snapped, feeling particularly exposed by the direction Cass's eyes were trained. A decidedly _downward_ direction that made Gannon feel squirmish.

"No, I don't mind at all," she replied flippantly, giving Arcade on last flickering look up and down his torso that made him feel decidedly dirty, before flipping her hair and waltzing out. She left without taking or leaving anything, making Arcade wonder just what the devil she came in here for in the first place. Looking down at his the tiny, balled up shirt covering his manhood, Arcade sighed and said aloud, "I think I need another shower."

XxXxX

A few days later, Cass and Boone were out on a scavenging mission, hoping to find enough scrap and spare electronics to pay for armor repair—because as the Courier put it, "I'm not made of caps, and you people don't seem to know the meaning of tactical cover." The Courier's latest cap-filled fugue was enough to drive Boone to escape the _Lucky 38, _under the pretense of searching for scrap. To his surprise, Cass immediately volunteered to accompany him. Though grateful for an extra pair of hands to sort, and another back to share the load, Boone had been under the impression that the only sort of run Cass would volunteer for was a booze run. Still, one didn't look the gift brahmin in the mouth, Boone's mama had always told him, so he just shrugged his shoulders and motioned her into the elevator.

They marched into the Mojave, leaving the blare and glare of the Strip behind in favor of the ghostly turf of the Fiends. Sure, Novac hadn't been all that scenic, and the Strip was as pretty as cheap rouge on a hooker, but they seemed like pre-war metropolises compared to the abandoned shells the fiends habitated. Each brick on house after store after house seemed to sigh in resignation as it crumbled under the white washing Mojave sun, then mixed with the abrasive desert sand and blew away in the wind. Boone hated the Fiends. They were as rotted and decayed on the inside as these buildings were on the outside.

The only good thing about these bastards was that they were sitting on a treasure trove of scavengeable items and were too doped out of their minds to realize it. Two hours combing Fiend buildings was as good as spending half a day in an obvious target, say, a factory building. _Still, it's dangerous work,_ Boone reflected as he felt, rather than saw, movement just behind him. He whirled, hand dipping down to the pistol on his hip. '_Must have been one of those dope heads melting into the shadows,' _he thought after a long moment. Boone let his hand fall away from his holster, and motioned Cass on. The Fiends didn't bother the Courier and her followers much these days. '_They're like a pack of wild dogs,_ Boone thought, _you just have to kick a couple of the bolder, bigger ones and the rest of the pack will slink off'. _

Spotting a mostly intact building on the corner, Boone motioned Cass along impatiently. The less time they were out in the open, the better. Boone ducked into the building, flipping his glasses up on top of his beret and squinting into the gloom. While he was waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he flipped the safety on his gun and reholstered it. Cass did much the same, and when they were both satisfied, they traveled further into the abandoned store. The first floor didn't amount to much; evidently the Fiends were smart enough to realize a store meant goods, if not outright money, lying about. There was a set of stairs behind the only other door in the room, and motioning Cass along, Boone climbed up, trusting that the dry heat of the Mojave had saved the bi-century old wood from rotting.

The second floor had three bedrooms, a linen closet, and a bathroom. Boone and Cass shifted through the little junk that remained, coming away mostly disappointed. Anything of value, even most of the furniture, was gone. Boone motioned to the second staircase at the far end of the hall and asked Cass, "Want to try it?"

"Sure," she said, climbing the stair ahead of Boone. She stopped at the top, the door to the third floor was locked. Boone brushed her aside and knelt down on the stair, concentrating on jimmying the lock. After a moment, it gave and they came into a low ceilinged attic. Up here, the ghostly shapes of forgotten furniture were covered by graying, dry rotted sheets. Silently, Boone and Cass pulled the sheets off of slumbering wardrobes and cabinets. "Jackpot," Cass murmured, casting a handful of junk on the top of the roll top desk she was searching. There were some useful bits, and Boone nodded in approval before Cass deftly picked out what was useful and shoved it into her bag.

The gloom was hurting Boone's eyes, and he looked over his shoulder at the small attic window at the far end of the room. Years of dirt and grime coated the panes of glass, causing the weak light that filtered in to become dingy and grey. Boone took one of the graying sheets over to the window and wiped at a century of grime. The sheet nearly came apart in his hand, but luckily some of the grit came with it. He looked out of the window, nonchalant until he saw horned figures creeping towards the door of their building. "Cass," he barked. "Fiends. They've surrounded the building. We've got to secure a position." Boone pivoted around, expecting to see Cass in a whirl of action. That's why he was quite confused to find her leaning against the wall looking back at him with a calm expression.

"Are you deaf," Boone bawled, "I said—"

"I heard what you said," Cass interjected. "But I need a favor, Boone."

"Cass, the Fiends," he barked, striding past her. He paused once he realized that she wasn't following him. "Are you crazy woman," he shouted at Cass, who hadn't moved an inch.

"So about this favor," Cass started. Boone looked on impatiently, gesturing with his hands to hurry up. "I have it on good authority that your boyfriend's packing a concealed weapon in his pants. Let's call it a Gannon Cannon. I've heard a few tales and had a little peek, and I must say I'm intrigued. But I'd hate to make Gannon cheat on his precious Boonifer, so let's just call it fair and make it a threesome?" The look Boone favored her with would have withered a lesser woman, but Cass met his gaze levelly, until a bullet whizzed past Boone's ear, causing him to hit the deck with a muffled swear. Boone floundered on the floor, attempting to draw his gun, the handle of which had somehow gotten caught in his belt. They could hear footsteps on the stairs now, and Boone's eyes were bugging out of his head.

"Tonight, we're getting Arcade drunk, renting a hotel room in _Gomorrah_, and taking turns firing the Gannon Cannon, capiche?" Cass yelled, ready to fire her gun as soon as Boone agreed.

"YES! OK! JUST FIRE, DAMMIT!" Boone yelled back frantically. Cass gave a great whoop and her aim was deadly with the big iron on her hip.

XxXxX

They trudged north towards New Vegas in the fading light. Anger seethed out of Boone, and Cass reflected that if she had a Pip-Boy, it'd probably be giving off Geiger ticks right now. "No need to pout, I had the situation under control." Her assurance didn't calm Boone. That was some dumb shit Cass pulled back there and it could have gotten them killed. All for some stupid practical joke, or whatever. He reflected that this warranted sharing, and told Cass so.

"Practical joke?" she snorted. "Brother, I was dead serious."

"Obviously I'm not doing that," Boone snapped back.

"Yes, you are," Cass said in her don't-challenge-me voice. "You're gonna have a drunken threesome with me and Gannon, and dammit, you're gonna like it. Because if you don't, next chance I get, I'm going to march straight to Novac, and tell the residents that poor little knocked up me is lookin' for her baby daddy, a surly first recon man she met on the Vegas Strip. Or if you prefer, I could take a jaunt down to Camp McCarren, party it up with the first recon boys, then let it slip that their old buddy Boone takes it up the ass from a nerdy doctor with the Followers of the Apocalypse."

Boone stopped dead in his tracks. Deep in his heart, he knew this crazy bitch meant every word she just said. There were only two options; kill her or give into her demands. He considered the former for a moment, before casting the idea away with resignation. He didn't have it in him to kill Cass, simple as that. She may be a raging bitch, but didn't give him reason enough to kill her.

"Fine," Boone spat. "On the conditions that you bring a shit ton of alcohol, I don't have to fuck you, and we never, ever speak of it again after tonight."

"Done and done," Cass said with a wolfish grin.

XxXxX

"Let's go out on the town with Cass tonight," Boone said to Arcade through gritted teeth. Arcade looked up from his Latin book, startled. Methodically, he marked his place and put the book down on the coffee table. "Well now," he began, pushing his glasses up his nose, "that's a pretty strange request considering you hate going out, you hate the town, and, well, you hate pretty much everyone."

"It could be fun," Boone said, mechanically. His jaw was starting to ache from gritting his teeth so forcefully. "Please," he added grudgingly. Arcade searched the surly man's face a moment as if checking for illness or insanity. Finding none, Arcade responded, "alrighty then. It's nice to see you make an effort to be sociable for once."

Later, the trio crowded into the elevator, Boone standing awkwardly in between Arcade and Cass, feeling exposed without his heavy shades. Arcade had managed wrestled Boone into a clean shirt, but unsurprisingly hadn't been able to coax the man into leaving his beret behind. "It's your own damned fault for asking for a marine haircut every time we go to the barbers. It's my expert medical opinion that this is going to make you bald faster. Then you really are going to need that damned hat," Arcade had grumbled as he'd finally given up.

"We don't have caps to waste on bail, so if you do anything illegal kill all of the witnesses," was the Courier's only comment as she watched them crowd into the elevator, clearly disapproving of blowing their caps in such a flippant fashion. "Where to, partner," quipped Victor in his usual cheerful lilt. "Hell," Boone muttered under his breath. Cass's elbow struck Boone in the ribs, but that could have been due to the closeness in the elevator. "Take us to the main floor, Victor. We're going out on the town," Cass instructed. As the elevator began its decent, Cass pulled a bottle out of her jean jacket. Cracking the seal, she took a slug and offered it to her companions.

"What is it," Arcade asked as he surveyed the green liquid. "Looks…. Radioactive."

"Absinthe," Cass replied.

"Ah, yes. The green fairy, they used to call it in the old days, way before the war," Arcade narrated in that factual way of his. "I've treated a fair amount of boozers in Freeside thanks to that stuff. Black out drunk if you're lucky, trashed liver if you're not. I'll pass."

"After a heavy night of drinking this stuff, sometimes I have a hell of a time remembering the night before," Cass commented with a laugh. That peaked Boone's interest. "Give it here," he grunted. Cass handed it over with a smug smile and Boone took a heavy slug. He took another for good measure. "Take it easy, Hoss," remarked Arcade sarcastically. "I'm not particularly keen on carrying you home tonight."

"I'll be fine," Boone said, fighting the feelings of guilt and apprehension at what he was about to help Cass do. "Here," he shoved the bottle at Arcade. "Live a little," he said. Arcade looked back with surprise a moment, and then took a swig as instructed. The elevator doors rolled open smoothly and Victor wished them a pleasant evening.

"Oh," agreed Cass, "I think it's gonna be pretty pleasant indeed."

XxXxX

Boone studied Arcade across the bar as the other man entertained a group of off-duty NCR soldiers with jokes and stories. If Gannon was sociable sober, he was downright chatty when drunk. He'd tell talk to you about Freeside, poetry, novels, Caesar, stimpack recipes, the weather—anything except his life before the Followers of the Apocalypse. The wall around his past remained unchinked, no matter how much he had to drink. Boone often wondered about that, especially on those long nights when he lay beside Gannon's slumbering form and sleep eluded him. Boone never pried, however. He knew all about secrets. Terrible, terrible secrets that were yours to bear alone.

The bartender asked Boone if he wanted another drink, and Boone declined. He went back to watching Arcade be social in ways he himself never could. Cass snuck up behind him, purring in a low voice, "I like that look, Boone, but I'd save it for the bedroom." He looked over his shoulder distastefully at her. Cass's face was flushed from the alcohol, and a nearly empty bottle trailed from her slack fingers. "Look," she instructed, gesturing with the bottle. Boone followed her gaze and saw Gannon clapping the soldiers on the shoulder as they said their goodbyes. Soon, Arcade was left alone at the bar, and noticing the attention of his two friends, tipped them a cheeky toast with his glass. "I think it's about time, don't you? He looks pretty toasted, but let's get over there and finish the deal." Cass's hand was resting on Boone's shoulder, and he shook it off. She only laughed at his sullenness and strutted over towards Gannon, gait only slightly wavering.

With a heavy feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with the alcohol, Boone followed her. He could hear Cass and Arcade laughing at something, too loud and just a little rough from the drink. "Why don't you boys snag us a booth? I'll be back, I gotta piss something fierce," Cass said before staggering away. Boone looked after her distastefully a moment, wondering how such a pretty woman could be so disgustingly unladylike all of the time. Lacing his fingers into Boone's, Arcade dragged him away to a carefully chosen booth; a corner wrap-around with high sides, strategically placed in a dark section far away from the rest of _Gomorrah_'s happy drunks. Arcade swung into the booth first, and then motioned Boone to scoot in close to him. Arcade planted a shy kiss on Boone's cheek, who responded by putting his arm around the blond man's shoulders and getting comfortable. The booth was hidden enough for Boone to feel comfortable kissing Gannon, though feelings of guilt and apprehension still clung to his gut.

Arcade kissed Boone back fervently, if not a little too heedlessly due to the alcohol. Soon, they broke off, and Arcade settled back into the booth's cushion. "Having fun tonight," he asked Boone, who only gave a curt nod. Cass returned soon after, brandishing a bottle of whisky like a prize. "Lookee here what I found, boys. Who's up for some real drinking?" They set up some cups and Cass poured them all a very generous portion. "None of that pussy sipping bullshit. Downers or nothing," Cass instructed, before lifting her glass. Arcade clinked his off of his two companions, and on the count of three all of them downed their drink. Arcade grimaced, still sober enough to taste the harsh homebrewed whisky and put his glass down on the table with a thunk. "Whoo!" Cass exclaimed. "Well that's a start, anyways. Who's up for round two?"

XxXxX

Groaning, Arcade leaned heavily upon Boone. "No more," he said thickly. Cass couldn't tell if it was a plea or an observation, as the bottle of whisky lay in the center of the table on its side, empty to the last drop. Even Cass, a career alcoholic who'd seen the bottom of thousands of bottles was feeling it. Cass lacked a watch, but she figured it was close to three in the morning. Despite the late—or early, if you are so inclined—hour, the trade in _Gomorrah_ hadn't slacked off. The bar was usually pretty packed at all times of day, though the quality of its patrons varied with the hour.

"I need water," Arcade said, rubbing his eyes like a tired child. "Let's get ya some," Boone said, scooting to get out of the booth with the speed and agility of an old man. He stood up slowly, trying to get on board of the spinning room before him with any amount of grace. Eventually, his vision cleared and Boone felt alright. Gannon followed, not quite able to maneuver his long limbs with as much care as Boone, and more or less tumbled out of the booth onto the floor. Boone and Cass just looked at him dumbly a moment; neither of them had ever seen Gannon quite so drunk. After picking the doctor and his glasses up and brushing the tall man off, Gannon leaned heavily on Boone and the trio made their way to the bar. Boone grimaced as he lead the man to the bar; Arcade was just tall enough to fairly drape himself over Boone as they walked, making it harder for Boone to hold them both up.

Boone jockeyed them a place at the bar, and Gannon clinged to the edge to keep himself upright. "Three shots of Tequila and a—" began Cass, before she was cut off by Boone. "No. No more alcohol. Some water please?" The bartender dipped his head and went to fetch them some clean glasses. Boone filled the time by glaring at Cass. The bartender returned and put down a glass of water. Arcade picked it up carefully, and after an initial taste, downed the whole thing. With a satisfied sigh, he put the glass back down. "I—I'm alright. I'm gonna make it."

"Dunno if you can make it back to the 38," Cass observed. "No shame in bunking here for the night. I have the caps."

XxXxX

Boone and Arcade stumbled into the cool, dark hotel room and flicked on the lights. Like all of the rooms in _Gomorrah_, the décor leaned towards sleazy, with a broad streak of ugly. The wallpaper was red—where it still covered the walls, that is. Two paintings of the Mojave, and oddly enough one empty gold frame, hung on the walls at tilted angles. The carpet looked like someone had been violently sick on it—every night for the last seven years. Boone noted with relief that the bed looked serviceable. That piece of furniture was the only reason people patron _Gomorrah, _and the staff knew it. Boone walked Gannon, who was still electing to lean heavily on him, over to the bed, and the two collapsed on it. Boone was relieved to have Arcade's weight off of him. The man wasn't fat; he was just a freakin bean pole. In his stupor, Arcade found the tumble to be quite hilarious, and made the bed shake with his guffaws.

"What's so funny," Boone asked gruffly. "Just realized," Arcade said, "we've got this lovely hotel room all to ourselves while Cass is finishing up downstairs. And," Arcade rolled over so that his body was partially covering Boone's, "you're sexy as fuck."

"Yeah? And you're drunk as fuck," Boone responded.

"That makes me easy as fuck," Arcade responded rakishly before kissing Boone. Arcade picked Boone's reluctant hands up and placed them low on his back. Boone's hands slipped lower and grabbed a hand of ass. After all, the doctor had one hell of a booty from all that walking around Freeside he did all day for house calls. Was Boone really going to do this, knowing Cass was going to come through the door at any second? As Arcade pushed his tongue into Boone's mouth and allowed his hands to wander over the sniper's hard stomach, Boone found it harder and harder to stop. Besides, he and Cass had a deal, right? He couldn't go back on it now. And he'd be lying if he didn't say that the growing bulge in the front of his worn khakis wasn't a pretty good motivator in itself.

Arcade sat up and swung a leg over Boone's waist before clawing his shirt off. Unlike Boone's tan, chiseled stomach, Arcade's own was flat and pale. Boone was never quite sure how Arcade managed to stay pale as a ghost while living in the middle of a desert, but it added an air of mystery to man. Personally, Boone preferred the exotic allure of the pale doctor to the scores of Mojaveians, so brown you couldn't tell if it was from earth or sun. Boone ran his palms over the flawless skin with his calloused hands, and both men shuddered deliciously at the feeling. Arcade ground their hips together, and the sensation caused an urgent, low pang in Boone's loin.

In a surge of dominance, Boone flexed his considerably toned muscles and rolled the pair over so that Boone was now on top. He wasted no time in latching onto his lover's neck and sucking greedily at the flesh. Arcade worked his hands between them and worked at undoing Boone's belt buckle. Arcade managed to work a hand down Boone's pants and grab a hefty hand of bollocks before being interrupted by the door opening creakily. Both men sat up sharply to find Cass standing at the foot of their bed. "D'ya mind," Arcade slurred, not bothering to remove his hands from Boone's pants.

"No, not at all," Cass commented as she flung her hat onto the sideboard and took a seat in the sagging armchair in the corner. Boone was shocked when Arcade drug his face back to his own without another comment. Surely he couldn't be ok with this? There was an amused twinkle in Arcade's eye and a sly smile on his mouth as the two parted lips. '_He's actually enjoying this,' _Boone thought. Boone had no time to ponder this further, as Arcade was ripping his pants off forcefully. The fabric dragged over his erection painfully and a gasp tore from his lips. Arcade made soothing sounds and ran a hand lightly down his lover's length before taking him into his mouth. The feeling of wetness engulfed him and Boone threw his head back into the pillows with a sharp intake of breath. The reaction pleased Arcade, who concentrated on dragging his teeth lightly over the shaft and allowing his lips to trail sensuously behind in his wake. Boone's hips twitched in response, his body aching to thrust into the luxurious heat surrounding him.

Arcade removed his mouth with a pop and set to stroking Boone vigorously. His large hands encircled Boone's length, but just barely. Cass sat in the corner, thoroughly immersed, and didn't take her eyes off of the sight of Arcade sucking precum off of Boone's tip, even as she unbuttoned her jeans and slid a hand sinfully down, underneath her panties, to the growing wetness waiting to greet her. She set to rubbing her own sensitive parts slow yet with enough pressure to keep her on edge. A pang of pleasure rolled over her as Boone suddenly let out a low and muffled moan. Cass felt her bossy side raising, and felt the need to tell Boone to moan loud enough for them all to enjoy it, but then thought better of it. Boone was a shy man to begin with, and any further prodding would ensure that all further sinfully delicious sexy noises would be repressed on principle.

Arcade lowered his mouth back to Boone's cock and took it in inch by inch until Arcade's nose was brushing Boone's stomach. Boone's hand wandered down to twine itself in Arcade's locks. Feeling himself scraping on the back of Arcade's throat, Boone tightened his fingers in the other man's hair and moaned a little more audibly. He was so close now. With a few more shallow bucks of his hips, Boone came deeply. Arcade swallowed clumsily against the warm flow of semen, trying not to break the mood by pulling away sputtering. Boone collapsed against the pillows, spent, and Arcade allowed the slowly wilting penis to slip out of his mouth.

Arcade allowed Boone to rest a few moments, but soon became impatient. He had his own throbbing erection to reckon with and pulled Boone's hand to his crotch to illustrate. From the corner, Cass began to _'tsk'_ reproachingly. "Boone's had his fun," she chided. "Don't you think it's time to tag someone else in?" Arcade turned to Boone, eyebrows raised in shock, but Boone could read him better than that. There was an exited shine to the doctor's eyes and the corners of his mouth were pulled up in the beginnings of a wolfish grin. He was ok with this. The prospect exited him. He _wanted _this. "You ok with this," Boone asked.

"Well, er, I mean, are you?"

Boone nodded. "Well ok then," Arcade said, unable to keep the exited lilt out of his voice. Boone slid off of the bed, kicking his trousers to the floor as he went. He touched his head reflexively, and then jerked his head around, looking for his missing beret. Arcade found it first and popped it onto his head at a rakish angle. Boone stormed over to the bed and snatched his hat off of Arcade's head before retreating to the chair in the corner. Arcade watched him go with a chuckle. Cass called after him, "where d'ya think you're going, Boonifer? I might need some tactical support over here." Boone hesitated a moment, unsure, but eventually returned to the bed as Gannon motioned him back. Cass was removing her own clothes with eager abandon and shedding them to the floor. "May I," Arcade asked, eyes flicking down to Cass's bare breasts. "I'd be insulted if you didn't," she quipped back. Arching herself into Gannon's touch, Cass let her head roll back in satisfaction. Slyly, she also allowed her hands to roam to Boone's thigh, and raked her shapely nails lightly over his skin.

Gannon was becoming restless with only touching. Cass's perky breasts were nice in their own way, and a welcome difference from his usual fare, but Arcade needed to push into something and relieve the aching in his balls. He told the other two so, and Cass wasted no time stepping up to bat. She sat on Arcade's legs, running a hand over the huge length in front of her with wondering eyes. "Good god, it feels bigger than it looks," she commented. For a moment she was worried the thick length wouldn't fit, but a wave of determination came over her. She'd make it fit, dammit. "It also feels better than it looks," Arcade quipped. Cass grinned. Placing her hands on his shoulders for support, she moved her hips towards Arcade's, and tentatively allowed the tip of his massive, aching cock to run between her folds and over her clit. She gasped in appreciation, but Arcade was becoming restless. He'd come before even entering her at this pace.

So he grasped her hips (and wondered at how small and delicate they were compared to Craig's) and pulled her forwards. He wasn't very used to making it with a woman, and Cass had to reach a hand down between them and guide him home. Cass pushed Arcade down hard against the pillows and settled herself down slowly on Arcade's length, pushing more and more of it into her. It was a tight fit but she made it work. She'd never felt this filled and pleasantly stretched before. Slowly at first, Cass began to ride Gannon. She quickly increased her speed and let little breathy sighs and moans escape her mouth, unabashed. Boone watched her riding Gannon, breasts bouncing, look of satisfaction that went beyond sexual pleasure on her face, and felt his own cock hardening in response. Reaching up to scoop her hair into a messy bun and hold it off of the nape of her neck, Cass became deliciously feminine, turning Boone on further.

Gannon wasn't too busy meeting Cass's thrusts to notice Boone was creeping closer and taking an interest. Knowing he had an audience, Arcade stepped his thrusting up a notch and let satisfied groans fall from his lips as Cass's insides rubbed him senseless. By this time, Boone was stroking himself rapidly, watching Cass and Arcade with rapt attention. Cass broke first, the thrusting and feeling of Gannon's cock inside her too much. Her orgasm came upon her swiftly, powerful enough to disrupt her rhythm. She let her breathy gasps and moans fall freely. Arcade felt her tighten around him and could only thrust twice more before coming in a hard gush inside her.

Exhausted, Cass pulled Gannon out of her, and fell onto the bed. Gannon rolled over and propped himself up on an elbow to watch Boone finish. Boone didn't think he'd be able to finish with all eyes on him, but he blocked the anxious thoughts from his head and soon came. His semen fell to the bedspread, viscous and sparing. Even his spunk was worn out after the long night these three had had. His orgasm wasn't as enjoyable as it had been while deep inside the warmth of Gannon's mouth, but it was satisfying none the less. Boone's limbs felt like jelly and he lay down as well. The three of them soon drifted close to sleep, still lying naked in the same bed. The morning would come soon enough, complete with hangover and probably more than a little regret, but for now it was best to enjoy the post-coital glow with no questions asked.

As she was falling asleep, Cass thought to herself, 'I dunno if it's the last of the alcohol working itself out, but wouldn't it be the best idea ever to get a shirt that says I Rode the Gannon Cannon and Survived?' Deciding that, yes, this was the most influential and well though plan to ever form, she resolved to talk to Michelangelo tomorrow to see what he could whip up.

**[A/N De-anoning this from the Fallout Kink Meme. Prompt was for Cass to scheme a way to have a drunken three-way in order to see the 'Gannon Cannon.' Reviews and criticism welcome :) Lastly, please check out my tumblr {bonsaibabe (dot) tumblr (dot) com} for more author shenanigans and awesome posts]**


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